she was ready to die. This animal
want drew her close to the window. A child at the table saw that white
face with its wild burning eyes, and pointed its finger, uttering
frightened shrieks.

Elizabeth darted away, crying out to the storm, "They will not have me;
even his menials drive me forth."

The beach was not far off, and from it rose a sound of lashing waves,
hoarse with the thunder of mustering storms. Afar off the moan of the
deep had sounded like an entreaty, but now it came full and strong,
commanding her to approach. She obeyed these ocean voices like a little
child; her powers of reasoning were gone; all consciousness of pain or
danger benumbed; everything else had rejected her, but the great ocean
was strong, boundless. With one heave of its mighty bosom it would sweep
her away forever.

She walked steadily on to the beach, forcing her way to the sands;
through drifts of seaweed and slippery stones, on, on she walked,
slowly, but with horrible firmness, through great feathers of foam that
curled upon the sands; on and on through whirlwinds of spray, till a
great wave seized her in its black undertow and she was gone.

CHAPTER LXVIII.

PLANS AND LETTERS.

All that day Elsie remained in bed, sleeping a good deal, but so nervous
and shaken that she would not permit herself to be left alone for a
single instant. Her brother's presence seemed to fill her with fear, and
she shrank with a strange sort of timidity from every tender word or
soothing caress; still she was wretched if he left her bedside, and
there he watched the long day through.

Evening came. Mellen was compelled to go through the pretence of another
meal; indeed he forced himself to eat, for he began to grow angry with
his own weakness.

He had thought when the first struggle was over to feel only an icy,
implacable resentment against the woman who had wronged him; he was
ashamed of the tenderness in his own nature when he found that, stronger
than his rage, more powerful than the horror with which he regarded her
dishonor, was the love he had believed uprooted suddenly from his heart,
as a strong tree is torn up by tornados.

Yes, he regretted her! It was not only that his life must be a desolate
blank, he pined for her presence. But for his pride he would have rushed
out in search of her, and taken her back to his heart, sweeping aside
all memory of her sin.

He roused himself from what appeared to him such degrading weakn